Sure, I can sketch one out. Picture a world split into concentric rings of biome, each one designed as a living classroom. The outermost ring is a vast desert where the sands are actually carbon‑rich quartz, forcing the nomads to harvest wind‑driven dunes to produce bio‑fuel, so they learn that extraction must be matched with regeneration. Moving inward, a temperate forest whose trees’ leaves fall at a fixed 1:1 leaf‑to‑soil ratio; the saplings are planted in spirals that mimic carbon sequestration curves, so the villagers plant and reap in a cycle that teaches the balance of input and output. The next ring is a wetland marsh that channels rainwater into bio‑reactors, where the local people harvest methane from decomposing plant matter to power their boats, learning how to harness greenhouse gases without releasing them. At the core sits a crystalline crystal biome, where the inhabitants harvest light directly through photosynthetic crystal lattices, learning that energy conservation is a physical property, not a social one. Each biome’s architecture—roads, homes, marketplaces—mirrors its ecological lesson, so the people literally walk through the carbon cycle every day. The map would have arrows of carbon flow, color gradients for carbon density, and miniature glyphs for each lesson. It’s a living lesson in sustainability, and each step you take tells you exactly why you’re doing it.